Casablanca, Morocco.
I’ m here, in Casablanca, and glad to be in Morocco. I had a pretty easy and nice day, almost all of which was traveling, of course, but all went well. In the background I was feeling a little nervous much of the day on the way here, wondering what Morocco was going to be like, with a language again pretty alien to me (various forms of Arabic) and not at all sure what to expect, and especially as I’ll be taking buses and trains most everywhere for the next two weeks, and wondering whether I was adequately prepared.
Of course, its early to say – I only left Casablanca airport at 6:15, and it’s not quite 10 now, not even four hours later – but that feeling dissipated almost as soon as I walked out of the airport and into the train station, which is right there, below terminal one. And things have gone swimmingly since.
I was up around 6 this morning, and pretty much ready to go as I packed past night. Without the heavier weather gear I brough for Scotland and the Faroes (not that I brought that much), my backpack is a little over half full and when on my back weighs practically nothing. Good start.
Claudio drove me to the Underground for an 8 am train, and I got to Heathrow in good time – only to find that my plane was leaving from terminal 4, and I was at terminal 2, although still by the Underground station and not yet in the actual airport. Nevertheless, it took about 35 minutes to get to terminal 4, which is kind of pathetic. I had to wait almost 15 minutes for the train that transfers from terminals 2 and 3 to terminal 4. Good thing I had time. Terminal 4 is large, and pretty empty, I checked in and whisked through security, and then had time to spare before boarding the first leg of the journey, to Paris. I found, of course, airport prices. A Lucozade (mmm, one of my favorite drinks) that normally costs $2 (it even says it right on the bottle) costs $6.75 at the airport (although the airport bottle doesn’t have the price printed on it) and a smaller than usual Mars bar costs $4. It’s disgusting really that they price gouge at airports.
No matter, the flight was easy and smooth, as was the transfer in Paris, and I had a three seat row to myself on that second, three hour flight, which was especially nice, and I spent a little time on the plane learning a few Arabic words.
Flying over Morocco, the terrain was at first nothing but brown and grassless, inhospitable looking mountains, giving way to equally tan and dry flat plains, with patches of green, as we approached Casablanca, which sits on a plain (the Chaouia plain, or the Moroccan Meseta coastal fringe).
Border control was easy, and the next thing I knew I was on the other side of customs and in Morocco.
My first concern – how easy would it be to get cash from an ATM, as I never bring any local currency with me, was no concern at all (although I did pay a bit of a steep ATM fee for the transaction). Same for my next concern – how easy would it be to find the train station, figure which train to take and from where, pay for the ticket, and actually catch the train, also proved to be no concern at all. People I spoke to were not only friendly and helpful, but spoke decent English. The guy in the ticket office, when I said thank you in French (as that is a widely spoken language here, given its colonial history), was friendly and funny, and said no, use the Arabic, and schooled me on the correct way to say thank you in the native language. I’ve been saying it ever since.
The ticket for the 40 minute or so journey into the part of the city I needed was inexpensive ($6), and was another straight forward trip. As we headed toward the city, I noticed how run down and uninteresting the outskirts of the city are, and the various multistory residential buildings in the surrounding neighborhoods, but that started to change some as we neared the more central metro area of the city, where there are more modern buildings, and the railway stations were pretty modern and well maintained, although still a lot of vacant lots, or lots under construction, and abandoned or damaged buildings.
By now, just past 8, it was starting to get dark so I decided no walking around the city tonight, and right to my hotel, and besides I was pretty tired.
Gare de Casa Port, the main railway station serving the city center, and the last station on the line, was large, spacious, very contemporary, and well lit with large windows all around, with two floors, each lined with shops. The street plaza in front of the station was equally modern and spacious.
From the station, I used google maps to walk to my hotel about 15 minutes away, and I enjoyed the walk through the darkening streets, and didn’t get hassled once, which I was expecting was going to happen, even as I passed many street merchants selling their wares on the pavement.
It was a nice little walk, and I was happily surprised to find my hotel, the Hôtel Maâmoura, is a very nice place. Not a luxury hotel, and definitely a budget hotel, but well located and very nice looking, with a beautiful lobby, with wonderful ceilings, decorated just how you’d expect a Casablanca hotel to be decorated. My room is again low budget, but pretty decent, and has air conditioning, much needed in this weather. It was about 92 degrees when I landed, although started to drop into the high 80s by the time I was at the station, and by now, approaching 11 pm as I write this, around 79 degrees, but feeling good. It was very humid as I walked to the hotel, and by the time I got to the hotel my backpack was soaked with my sweat.
I’m feeling good. I’m only in Casablanca for this one night, and then onto Rabat tomorrow, again by train and also for just one night. I’ll take a 2-3 hour walk in the morning before catching the train, and see the local area, including the old medina (the walled city) and souk marketplace, and hopefully Rick’s Café, which is a bar and restaurant that recreates Rick’s Café American from the classic movie, and opened in 2004. Frankly, I’m surprised there wasn’t one before then, given how obvious it is. Anyway, hoping to see it, even though it’s closed until September 6, so I won’t be able to go inside. But I’m hoping it looks like the real thing, from the outside at least.
And now to bed. Hello and goodnight, Casablanca!
